


Backfired

by LureSanta



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: Homophobia, Kidnapping, Lure Santa Exchange 2011, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LureSanta/pseuds/LureSanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gift for Nancygrew, created by Lure Santa - posted December 20</p><p>Winston Mayer escapes from prison and kidnaps Reid in order to seek revenge against Luke for turning his son against him. Much to Winston’s consternation, Reid turns out to be the rudest, snarkiest kidnap victim ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backfired

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nancygrew](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nancygrew).



> This was fun to write! Winston was a really comically awful character on the show, in my opinion, and mixing Reid --a person who’s so blunt and unforgivingly sarcastic-- into that only created more head desking and face palming. So, I hope this is okay and what you wanted! ♥

Colonel Winston Mayer was a very inconspicuous man. He’d placed himself on the sidewalk boulevard, disguised as a tree as he stood with his arms stretched out horizontally. The brown moose hat he’d purchased --particularly the large, protruding antlers on the top-- had a distinct similarity to branches, and the leaves he’d glued onto his mud-marred face created the grand illusion that he was, indeed, one of Mother Nature’s creatures.  
What was a tree doing in Old Town, a small and fairly treeless shopping district, you asked? Well, nobody knew, but nobody really seemed to care to come close and investigate, either. They were too busy with their lives and their problems and, apparently, tree phobias. Sometimes the best places to remain invisible were the most visible, and Winston knew this because he was very smart and very wise, and he had years of training and escaping (and killing) under his belt.  
The sound of two people talking, one clearly irritated and the other clearly trying to placate, alerted his attention, and his eyes sharpened as he followed it. One was wearing a white lab coat --the doctor-- and the other... Winston growled low before he could silence it.  
Luke _Snyder_. The whole reason he’d devised this plan in the first place.  
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this! I am going to _kill_ that sneaky little son of a shit fucker and I’m not even going to revive the bastard when his heart stops--”  
“Reid, calm down.” Luke’s voice was amused, barely suppressing a laugh, and Winston’s insides curled unpleasantly as he put his arm around the doctor’s tense shoulders and gave it a small but obvious squeeze. “Relax.”  
The doctor looked at him, a sullen expression on his face, but it faded slightly when Luke leaned forward, brushing their noses together, and --Winston barely refrained from heaving his lunch all over the pavement-- _kissed_ him.  
His gaze narrowed. This man --this _mockery_ of a man-- was also one of _those_ people. Doctor Reid Oliver. The man with the backwards name. Winston had done his research (very _thorough_ research that was obtained with _extreme_ difficulty) and he was appalled that they were letting someone so obviously perverted, someone so manipulating and evil, cut into peoples’ brains every day. Who knew how many poor, innocent souls he’d mind-washed?  
Winston made his leaves rustle and his branches sway a bit as the wind picked up. It wouldn’t do well to raise suspicious attention.  
They were still in the middle of the road, touching each other, tongues visibly sliding against each other in the dark caverns of their mouths. Winston watched in disgust, almost shaking with it, as the doctor’s hands slid down Luke’s back to rest on his hips, slowly pulling Luke closer against him as they continued to display themselves to public eyes so indecently. They were practically performing _sexual intercourse_ on the sidewalk. Like they deserved it. No, what they _deserved_ was to burn in hell. Just like Charlene.  
And they would burn in hell together.  
Winston would have no problem destroying them. They were both ruining lives, and Luke had ruined the life of the person he loved most in the world. His own _son_. His own flesh and blood. Tainted. Turned against him.  
Luke laughed at something Winston missed, murmured too low for him to hear. He let his head fall into the doctor’s neck, forehead nuzzling in against the doctor’s jaw, shoulders shaking with laughter as the doctor looked down at him with a fond smile that hastily vanished when Luke looked up again.  
Luke didn’t deserve to have happiness, and if this Reid Oliver was the source of that happiness Winston was going to take him away. He was going to take him away, watch Luke watch the doctor crumble before him, and then he was going to take Luke away, too.  
It was the perfect plan, and he would enjoy it. This had been put off, evaded by irritatingly protective influencers of homosexuals, for far too long.  
In a way, he was doing Luke a kindness. Luke said he loved Noah and cared for him. Luke was beyond saving, but Noah wasn’t, and the punishment Luke was going to receive was going to be the thing that saved his son from the same fate. Luke would have been thanking him later, if he was still alive.  
When Winston looked again, Luke was feeding the doctor what looked like a piece of chocolate from the one sitting in the wrapper in his hands, eyes teasing. The doctor looked scandalized, unimpressed, like he was being morally demeaned, but as Luke pushed it against his lips he opened up his mouth and took it, teeth catching on the tips of Luke’s fingers like an afterthought. They continued talking in those low voices, back and forth like they were sharing secrets. Dirty, perverted secrets.  
Winston had seen enough. “I’m going to make everything better, son. Just you wait.”

♟

The first thing the doctor said when he woke up and found himself bound to a chair in a dingy motel room was, “Can’t we go _one day_ without something cheesy and over the top dramatic happening in this town? Seriously, _please_ , I’m begging you.” Then he paused and, blearily, considered the rifle poking him straight between the eyes. He closed them, hanging his head, and sighed. “Okay, what have I done to you? Did I offend you in some way, shape or form? Did I insult your daughter? Are you trying to blackmail me like you Oakdalians seem to enjoy doing? Really, the possibilities are endless, but you’re going to have to give me something to go on.”  
The doctor had been just as infuriating --if not more-- during the time of his capture as well, unnecessary nonsense and bitching spewing from his dirty mouth that grated on Winston’s nerves, and again Winston resisted massaging his temples and pulling the damn trigger right then and there. He couldn’t. Not yet. Not until Luke was awake to see the doctor’s brain splattering against the wall like spaghetti.  
Luke Snyder’s capture, on the other hand, had been just as difficult as the doctor’s, and the bite marks on his wrist and arm proved just how dangerous these men --especially Luke Snyder-- were to society. It was further incentive to Winston that they had to be stopped. They had to be punished.  
Winston pressed the butt of his gun harder against the doctor’s forehead. He raised his chin and looked down his nose at him. “My name is Colonel Winston Mayer, and you’d do best to show me some respect, boy, especially considering the situation you’re in.”  
There was a muffled moan, and the doctor’s eyes shot to the other side of the room, widening involuntarily when they fixed on Luke’s similarly bound form, blond hair matted with blood and face creased with pain, eyes fluttering as he tried to open them. Winston turned his head to watch, ready to swivel the rifle in Luke’s direction should he try anything--  
“Wait,” the doctor said, and it was clear in his tone he was desperately trying to keep his voice steady. Winston could taste it. He was doing an admirable job of hiding it, however. The condescension and attitude alone had Winston pausing. “Hold the fucking _phone_ , here. Mayer...” The doctor squinted. “You’re Noah’s dad. Luke’s ex-boyfriend’s dad who’s supposed to be in _prison_ \--for trying to kill Luke and many other things that I don’t have the effort to parrot at you-- right now. Great! This just keeps getting better and better.”  
The doctor laughed, even though his eyes were as blazingly cold as when you wore a pair of pants in winter and you didn’t have proper thigh protection. (Winston still had nightmares about the day he forgot his long johns when he was hiding out in Alaska.) He tilted his head in mock interest. “So, tell me, Colonel, did you dig your way out with a spoon?”  
“You listen to me, boy--“  
“That’s _Doctor_ Oliver, Winny, but I guess you could call me your boy. Kinky.” He winked, arms flexing against the restraints. “And I would’ve preferred a ball gag to add to this whole half assed, unimaginative _’Let’s tie him to a chair and wave a hunting rifle around to scare him!’_ bit --what are you planning on doing, hunting for gays in the faerie forest? Anyway, duct tape would work too, you know, if you’re low on budget. I’m lenient like that.”  
Winston’s blood was boiling. And so was the water he had in the electric kettle.  
“Are you making tea?” the doctor spluttered, incredulity coloring his tone as he laughed again. “How thoughtful. Crumpets, too?”  
Winston’s mouth curled. His face, which had been turning maroon under the doctor’s taunting, abruptly faded into something far more sinister. “Oh, no, doctor, this isn’t tea. This is something _far_ more delicious. I think you’ll enjoy it.”  
“I’d better fucking hope so, with your hospitality,” the doctor said. “I was just about ready to give you a failing grade.”  
Winston’s teeth ground together.

♟

It went on that way for ten more minutes, and Winston had surreptitiously taken a few Tums to calm his angry heart while the doctor wasn’t looking. How could anybody possibly _enjoy_ the company of this man?  
“I could say the same about you,” the doctor rasped, reeling back from the punch Winston had delivered a minute ago and licking his split lip. Winston didn’t bother acting surprised that he’d said his last thoughts out loud --that was how _immensely_ he disliked him. ...Well, maybe not as much as he disliked Luke Snyder, but it was a close call.  
A _very_ close call.  
His finger trembled on the trigger. He wanted to pull it so ferociously his forehead started breaking out in sweat. He seethed, “ _You--_ ”  
“--are still waiting for you to tell me what the fuck I’m doing here.” The doctor’s head fell, hitting the metal back of the folding chair with a bored thunk. His eyes rolled up to Winston’s. “That climax you promised me, Winny. It ain’t happening. The suspense isn’t building, and that tea’s only dangerous quality was the lack of sugar.” He stuck his bottom lip out, sad. “This is just lame. I’m offended. After all the stories I’ve heard, surely a neurosurgeon of my prestigious esteem deserves a little bit of that creativity? Just a little?”  
“I’m going to kill you,” Winston growled, “and I’m going to make your boyfriend watch. Then, while he cries over you, I’m going to kill him too.” Winston leaned in, advancing in so far that his breath puffed against the doctor’s cheeks. “How’s that for creativity, _Doctor?_ ”  
That flare of fear he’d been waiting for felt one million times better when he was close enough to witness it, the shrinking of the doctor’s pupils and the stiffening of his spine as his eyes darted to the other side of the room where Luke Snyder was still fighting for consciousness --but when those eyes narrowed again with burning hatred, and the spit that flew into his face like the doctor was shooting out watermelon seeds, he was definitely _not_ expecting it. And he would never, never in the future years of his life, admit how he’d shrieked like a small, female child when it happened. Never.  
“How’s _that_ for not using mouthwash, Colonel?” the doctor said cheerfully, though slower than before. And it was then that Winston dropped his rifle, and it was very unfortunate, because it smacked Luke in the face (which... okay, that part he was completely fine with, but--) and landed right in his lap, effectively waking him up.  
Winston was still squinty-eyed and teetering on his feet like a see-saw when he heard Luke croak, “Reid?” panicky and distraught. “Reid! What’s going on?”  
There was a soothing _shhhh_ from the doctor. “Breathe, babe. I’m okay, it’s okay, we’re safe. Colonel _Dumbfuck_ , on the other hand... ” The doctor’s words had started slurring, the drug from the tea sinking in. A little late, if you asked Winston. “...He got something in his eye. Something suspiciously _llama-esque_. So, maybe we should try and skedaddle while he’s distracted.”  
There was a tone to that that said the little shit was _grinning_ , and Winston blindly charged at what he thought was the doctor’s chair with a loud roar, and indeed it was a chair, but it was his own empty one and it just went crashing to the floor along with him.  
“It’s like watching a train wreck,” the doctor said, fascinated, and then, “Babe? You got your hands free?”  
There was a breathless, “Yeah. I’ll have yours in a second. Don’t worry. And stop calling me babe.”  
“You love it. I love it. What’s not to love, babe?” A few seconds of frantic rustling later the doctor added, “I’m not worried, you know. I trust you. I love you.”  
Winston gave a feeble groan of protest when he heard that disgustingly wet _smacking_ noise again that could only be one thing, along with an amused and affectionate “You’re so high, but I love you too,” and he hoped the dark would just _take him already_. He was ashamed, he had let down his son, he was humiliated, and his plan had gone to hell instead of the two sinners in the room with him who were supposed to. He’d lost to _homosexuals_ , and he didn’t need to hear them kissing through their victory. How much lower could he sink?  
He had a miserable passing thought that now there would be _three_ people with concussions in this room, and at least one of them was a neurosurgeon, but then the last thing Winston heard before his world turned to black was a dopey, “You are wonderful, Luke Snyder, love of my life, keeper of my sperm, cream to my coffee, yin to my yang...”


End file.
